


Obsidian

by thetealord



Series: Prelude to Diamond & Quartz [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Science Fiction, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetealord/pseuds/thetealord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A world-building and character exploration piece as a prelude to the novel I'm writing for NaNoWriMo about a pair of middle-aged gay gentleman spies/assassins. There's a lot of jazz and also cyborgs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsidian

Lila Daniels was dead.

Hans saw it in the paper that morning, one that was discarded, and trodden on in the street by feet, swept aside by the whoosh of hovercars and hoverbikes. But the headline was there, in black ink, clear as day.

Even before then, he'd known. He'd heard through the whisperings in the street about what had happened at The Red Rose. He'd heard about the strange man who had appeared, a man who was not a regular. A man in a suit.

A government man.

He'd heard from the bouncers who worked there that he'd tried to throw the man out, but Lila had stopped him.

She'd known. She must have known. So why didn't she try to fight, or let the bouncer throw the man out, or come straight back to their headquarters, far beneath the city of Penumbra, down a distant, dark, dank tunnel, so far from the eyes of the Core and the Queen no one would ever find them. Why hadn't she run away, come home, saved herself?

It made him feel... hurt. Betrayed. Lila had been like a mother to him. It wasn't fair.

Hans sat atop the building across the street, staring down at The Red Rose. It was roped off now, and it buzzed with police officers like flies around a corpse. They were looking for clues, they said. Evidence. But he knew the truth. They'd found the body—the Core, that was—and swept it off, got rid of it. They always cleaned up after they sent one of their agents in for the kill. They would leave no trace, not even a blood stain.

Cyborgs like Lila were so much more machine than man they didn't have blood, but that was beside the point.

The police, whether they knew the secret or not, wouldn't find anything. They would continue to report, for a few weeks, that the killer had yet to be found. And then, when everyone in the city stopped worrying about a single murder, stopped caring about that one loss of life when people died on the street every day, and it wasn't an interesting story anymore, and the newspapers stopped printing it, then... the police would just act like it didn't matter and wouldn't report on it either. Everyone would forget about it.

But Hans wouldn't forget.

He wouldn't forget how beautiful Lila was, or how kind, or how she had never, not even once, called him a girl even though he was born as one, or tease him, like so many others did. He would never forget that she took care of him when he was sick. He would never, never forget that she'd picked him up off the street, got him a steel leg to replace his missing one, and introduced him to her friends. She'd saved his life.

Climbing down from the rooftop, Hans put his feet on either side of the metal ladder and slid down. His right foot, made of steel from the knee down, made a horrible piercing shriek and threw up a few sparks, but no one on the street took any notice. The ones who mattered knew him. The ones who didn't know him, didn't matter.

He headed over, just to get a peek at the building, raising his eyebrows at the police officers, but he knew even if he wanted to get closer, to find some sort of... anything (a reminder of her, a piece of her, he didn't know), they wouldn't let him in. He was just some kid on the street. A Modified human. So in their eyes, worthless.

Hans turned and headed back through the alleyway, back between the close buildings, picking up dirt and grime on the bottoms of his already filthy feet. He saw a flutter of paper, waving in the breeze as he passed a dumpster and paused, turning. 

Gently, he coaxed the newspaper out from the pile of trash, brushed off some of the grime that was crusted and caked onto it, and stared at the headline, the article that bore Lila's name, over and over, that spoke of her death. And even though it was mostly lies, fabricated to protect the Core and the Queen, he decided to take it anyway, shaking it out, and then folding it up until it was small enough that he could tuck it into the front of his vest.

Then, he turned and continued on his way, through the streets, and then, eventually, down the steep steps that lead to the underground.

There was just as much city underground as there was above. As much as the aboveground went on for miles, twisting and turning around corners and through corridors, sectioned off into districts for the market, and east and west end, the business district, and plenty of rich neighborhoods, the underground was much the same. There was an underground market, bars and nightclubs, and miles and miles of slums. There was a distinctly different crowd beneath the earth. 

After all, the real posh types, they preferred the aboveground, the open air and the view of the sky and the horizon, and to watch the sun move across and change itself out for the moon in the evening. But the underground... those people didn't care about the sky or the clouds or the sun. They just wanted a safe place, or a secluded place. Somewhere the government didn't care quite as much what they did with their time. And the government liked to keep them down there, too. They were thought of as the lesser folk. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

Hans shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his cap down further over his head to shield his eyes. He cast furtive glances over his shoulder, trying to make sure the police weren't on his tail. After all, he'd been skulking about where he shouldn't be, he wouldn't have been surprised if one of them spotted him and tried to tail him. 

At this time of the night, the streets were filled with all sorts, crooked types mostly. Bars and strip clubs were lit up with vibrant neon signs and flashing arrows, and there were Whitestone dealers around every corner, men who had collected large quantities of the stone illegally, either pulling it off dead bodies or getting it through some other unsavory means. They'd sell it to you for a good price. He didn't have that kind of money, nor did he have any need for the stuff. It was the sort of thing the government used to grind down to make their serum, and some people on the street would grind it down too, make knock-off versions that the kids would get pumped up on and then go cause trouble upstairs before retreating back into the twisting depths of the underground where they were harder to find.

The buildings here mostly continued down from the ones on the surface, plummeting through the earth for hundreds of stories, the ones near the bottom the least well kept. This was the basement, where there was mold and grime everywhere, but it was home.

He slunk through an alleyway, ignoring the single window that shone with light, open just a crack. A few trash cans rattled, probably from some rat or other animal rummaging around inside them. It was dark, and in his dark clothes it was easy for him to conceal himself in the shadows there.

He heard footsteps behind him and dared to look back, over his shoulder. Two men in uniforms stood there, backlit by the neon lights of the city behind them. They peered into the alleyway, and in that brief moment he paused, one of the men's eyes widened and he pointed. "You there, kid!" he called. "Halt!"

Hans sighed. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was fourteen, but he was still smart, and had a round face far too girlish for his tastes, even with his hair cut short, although he wore clothes generally attributed to the paper boys.

Turning back around, he kept walking, but faster, keeping his head down and hoping maybe they meant some other kid, until two more officers stepped into his way at the other end of the alleyway, one of them smacking a club into his hand, the other reaching for his belt where a pistol was holstered.

He was boxed in. And worse, these men had guns, and probably serum too. But they wouldn't kill him. They'd take him in, interrogate him, try to find out why he was snooping around, or maybe worse. Maybe they knew who he was. He didn't know how much these men knew about the cyborgs, about Lila, and the truth.

Shrinking back, he put his back to the wall and stood near the middle of the alleyway, officers on both sides advancing. 

He didn't have serum of his own, but he'd never needed it. Even at times like this. 

The men on his left rushed him. Hans grabbed the trashcan next to him, which was mostly empty. It was still heavy, but he managed to pull it towards him, turn it on its side and lash out with a kick. His metal leg made a loud clang as it hit the side of the can and it went shooting across the alleyway, barreling straight into both officers.

They fell back with oofs of surprised, but Hans didn't try to run past them. There would be too much opportunity for them to grab his ankles as he ran past and not enough room to get around them easily, so he turned instead to the men advancing from the other side. They charged him with inhuman serum-powered speed now that they'd seen him fell their colleagues, however temporarily.

"Com'ere you little brat!" one of them snarled, reaching out to grab his shirt. Hans let him, then kicked him hard in the shin with his steel foot, forcing the man to cry out and let go. The other grabbed him by the shoulders and Hans stamped hard on his foot, tore himself forcibly from the man's grip and spun, bringing his leg around in a hard kick from the side.

He heard ribs crack, and the man cried out and stumbled back against the alley wall. The other had drawn his pistol in one hand, club in the other, and he fired, wild and aimless. One shot ricochetted off his metal leg, and Hans ground his teeth and darted around, just beneath the man's arm, ducking under the strike of his club.

The man swiped at him again, catching him hard in the arm. Hans was thrown bodily against the wall, gripping his sleeve, grunting in pain. 

"The more you resist, the harder this is going to be for you," the man told him, and he could see the other two who had been assaulted by the trash can getting up and coming to join their friend. He had to get to that window, fast.

He tore away from the wall just as the man's club hit it and flung himself down the alleyway with the men tight on his heels, shooting at him. One of the bullets ripped through his side and he stumbled, caught himself, and kept going.

It wasn't far to the window, just a few feet, but those few feet seemed endless as bullets rang out, pounding against the stone street and brick walls covered in lichen. When he reached the window, he darted up the wall, grabbing onto the window ledge. This was the dangerous part, and bullets streaked past him, one slicing across his back as he scrambled up, forcing the window open further so that he could shove himself through, and dumped out onto the floor on the other side.

He was laying in someone's kitchen, blood staining his clothes, breathing heavy. The men outside were shouting to each other, and Hans picked himself up and tore through the house, stumbling just a little, gasping for breath. 

A woman shrieked as he stumbled past her, and he gasped, "Sorry, ma'am!" He hurried through the halls and eventually found the door, fumbling for the latch and then stumbling out into the street.

He dove for the nearest alleyway, lifted the lid of a trashcan and got in, closing it down over himself and then, he waited. He was sure the police wouldn't go barging through someone's house, they'd try to figure out where he came out and search for him.

He held his breath as he heard footsteps approach, clapping ever closer against the stone street. They paused, brieftly, and for a moment Hans was sure the lid of the trashcan was going to lift up and he'd be done for. But instead, they turned and walked away down the alley. 

Hans waited for a long time after that. The trash stank but he didn't care. He probably smelled just as bad anyway after weeks without a bath. Even though he was welcome in the cyborg rebellion's headquarters, he knew they didn't have enough resources to keep everyone super comfortable, so he liked to provide for himself and wander the streets for days on end. They'd learned quickly not to expect to see him around every day.

When he was sure it had been nearly an hour, and he'd almost fallen asleep among the refuse, he carefully lifted up the lid and peered out, straining his ears. There was nothing but the silence of the night, so he pulled off the lid as quickly and quietly as he could and climbed out, sticking to the shadows as he slunk through the alleyways.

Hans checked almost constantly over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him, but the only other people out on the streets at this point were the usual night crowd. Some of them knew him and watched him carefully as he skittered by. Some of the other street folks he would consider friends, and some very much the opposite. For the most part, the people he knew liked to support each other and stick together, but the streets were a nasty place and you never knew who might turn their back on you and when. At least, that was what his mother had taught him, before she'd died.

It was nearly morning by the time he slunk down into the abandoned building that lead to the boarded up tunnel which eventually came out in the cave being used by the rebellion. It was the end of an abandoned mineshaft. One of the other tunnels was boarded up, and yet another was blocked by fallen rocks. Aside from the rebels, no one else had been down there in a hundred or so years, and it was nearly impossible to get into, so it was the perfect place for them.

"Hans!" A broad-shouldered man waved and ran over as soon as he saw him. Cornwall was older, with grey hair that drooped down around his face and a scruffy beard. He was covered in scars from years spent out in the Rings, where he'd worked for the government manning the Fifth Ring. He didn't talk about it much. All Hans knew was that he'd run from that life for some reason, and his abandonment had him on the government's hit list.

"Where have you been? We've been worried." He gasped. "Oh Gods, you're hurt." He bent down to inspect him for a moment, then put a gentle hand on Hans's back. He led him into the room, towards the tent their resident doctor had set up. Cornwall knew that Hans often disappeared on his own for days on end, but he had every right to be worried after what had happened to Lila. They were probably making sure they had everyone else acounted for, and since Hans and Lila had been close he would be the next most reasonable target.

"I'm fine," Hans said, gently brushing his hand away to walk on his own. "Thanks." His face fell and he could feel Cornwall studying him.

"What happened?" The man asked.

"The police came after me," Hans said. "I... I went to The Red Rose."

Cornwall gasped. "Why?"

"I... I had to see for myself." Hans said, and broke away from Cornwall further as he made his own way to the doctor, hand clutching his side. He was so stiff after all that time curled up in the trashcan and filthy, too. Probably in danger of infection. "Please, Cornwall, I'm fine, and I can do this, and I really don't need one of your lectures right now."

"All right," Cornwall sighed. "But you should stay here for now. If the doctor doesn't tell you to, at least do it for me, Hans. And Lila. Please." 

"I..." Hans looked back at him, met his eyes, but Cornwall just looked so... afraid and sad that he nodded and said, "All right. I'll stay." 

Even if he knew that was a lie. Because even injured, even in danger of being found and caught, he knew he wouldn't be able to sit still. Somehow, he had to pay them back. He didn't know how, but he had to get revenge for Lila's death.

 


End file.
